I hate feeling so small and frail.
Gregor’s voice is in my head.
Pathetic.
Useless.
Frightened.
Just as my fingers begin to weave through Rowland’s dreadlocks, they stop. With a force that might split us both in two, I shove him away and stagger to where Gregor’s and Boris’ bodies lay. Mostly my eyes linger on the larger noctis. It’s as if I need to make sure he’s still dead, need to be certain we won, and that he won’teverhold so much power over me again.
There’s no convincing me. I’ve seen too many humans reanimate into ghouls. And though I’ve never watched a noctis rise from the dead, I’m suddenly not sure it isn’t possible.
The walls around us feel like they’re closing in.
I can’t stay in this room.
“When are you going to let go of the past, Char?”
It’s the last thing I can handle right now.
“Maybe when people stop trying to convince me that it didn’t happen and never will again!” I inhale sharply, tears stinging the back of my throat. “Just…just pay me for the noctis and I’ll be on my way.”
Half-expecting the fight to spark again, I brace myself for Rowland’s ire. It doesn’t come though.
“One second,” he says.
Exhaustion ripples off him as he makes his way toward the door and summons a guard in from outside.
The man that enters is unlike any guard I’ve ever seen. He’s inundated with adornment, but not of the chainmail or leather armor kind. Jewels of every color adorn his fingers, with at least half of the rainbow pierced in each ear. A simple, golden hoop loops through his nostril, and he wears charcoal around his eyes.
When he salutes Rowland, his hand almost gets lost in the voluminous cloud of curls framing his face.
“Sir?” the guard asks, but his eyes are on me.
He looks me up and down with the sort of judgmental grimace that makes me suddenly self-conscious about how long it’s been since I bathed. Or combed my hair. Or even bothered to wipe the noctis guts from my blouse.
Rowland nods his respect to the man, either oblivious to the guard’s judgment, or simply not caring.
“Charlotte here has brought us two noctis for our studies. Make sure she’s given credits for the market.”
The guard bows. “Of course.”
“And I need you to put together a clean-up crew. Just a few men. No more.” A new thought occurs to Rowland. “In fact, take the prisoners we grabbed from the tavern last night. If they’re willing to work, if they can do this job well, I’ll release them from the rest of their sentence.”
The two of them talk a bit longer, Rowland telling the man about what happened with me and the noctis and what I overheard them saying about the Hunt. He tells him where to take the prisoners, where they’ll find the locations of both Boris and Gregor’s deaths.
Meanwhile, I wait impatiently, wondering if I should just tell him to put it on my tab and come back another time.
It’s already dark. I should be back at my hovel by now.
“Make sure to leave no trace of noctis blood,” Rowland instructs. “Or any signs of struggle, for that matter. If someone comes looking for these two, we need to make sure their trails don’t lead back here.”
“Consider it done,” the guard says, clapping his decorated hands together.
“One more thing.” Rowland stops the guard before he’s out the door. “Alert the people of Valor’s Rest that we will be in a blackout for the remainder of the week, effective immediately.”
The guard’s friendly almost carefree expression folds like a bad hand of cards.
